


Show Me What I'm Looking For

by renwillow



Category: One Direction
Genre: M/M, Uh I don't know how to do this, and I have depleted my sanity, but Louis is spoiled, harry wears a poncho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:01:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renwillow/pseuds/renwillow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emperors New Groove AU: Louis is a king desperately in need of a new summer home. And no dopey, curly peasant is going to stand in his way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is a new process to me, so be gentle. Feel free to leave comments and criticism for me below! Ive never really posted anything of my own, but something about emperors new groove is very irresistible. Enjoy! :)
> 
> title inspired by the lovely song show me what i'm looking for by carolina liar.

\----

Louis rubbed his sore forehead for what seemed like the 40th time that day. What does the architect not understand about having a hot tub in each room?

"Your highness, the hot baths would require many expenses, money that could go towards repaving the old country roads for the peas-"

"Do smooth roads fix my aching back? How am I expected to continue on as a supreme ruler if I can't even get back support?" Louis spit at the old architect. Days spent sitting on his golden throne had led Louis to form a craving for therapeutic hot tubs. Multiple therapeutic hot tubs. He had explained this so many times already.

The withering old man stuttered out a mumbled response and scratched 'hot tubs in every room' onto the already humongous list of what King Louis demanded for his new summer home.

"You may be dismissed. I need a nap." Louis clambered off of his oversized throne and traveled down the royal halls to his bed chambers.

A nap was what he needed. And of course, his deluxe summer vacation home. How could such a divine, generous ruler not deserve one?

\-----

"Louis! LOUIS! I swear to god, if you don't wake up!"

Louis woke to an obviously annoyed voice, shouting into what had once been a peaceful sanctuary for his naps.

"That's King Louis to you, Zayn. And what on earth is so damn important to you that you had to wake me up?" Louis mumbled into his pillow. The light was burning his squinted eyes. How dare Zayn. He doesn't have to the right to disturb the royal slumber.

"You know that peasant you invited here? The one whose house you're planning on demolishing for your dumbass building project?" Zayn retorted.

Oh yeah. Louis remembered now. In order to get the prime resort he dreamed of, he may or may not need to eliminate a cottage. Or two. The price of comfort, he supposed.

"Can't you just deal with him? You know I don't handle confrontation well." Louis muttered into his pillow. He lifted his head and added, "And I'm not feeling the whole 'break a man's home' thing right now. I'm a little tired."

Zayn rolled his eyes. "This is your fucking idea. You want to tear up some dude's house? Go right ahead. But man up and do it yourself."

Zayn had always responded like this to Louis antics, usually branding him spoiled and high maintenance (Louis preferred the word "luxurious"). But Zayn never really had much of a choice other than to take Louis for what he was, considering he grew up alongside the royal and accompanied him through many troubling games of hide and seek through the endless halls.

Zayn strolled out of Louis' chamber and left the door wide open. "C'mon lazy ass, you've got a man to ruin," he called from the hallways, already on his way to greet the new peasant.

Louis heaved a deep sigh, regretting the day he was born and inherited responsibility. He didn't ask for this. He asked for a plush summer home.

He shrugged on his favorite golden tunic and pushed his fringe across his forehead in that special way that drove all his subjects wild. Sighing once more to let the gods know his displeasure, he finally made his way to receiving room. He can do this. No man's cottage can stand in his way.

Catching his foot on the endless red rugs furnishing the floor, he muttered an impressive list of expletives and continued on to his throne. Why did it have to be so tall? Why so many stairs? Louis just wasn't having a good day.

"Okay Zayn, bring him in." Louis called down to his best friend. "Please," he added begrudgingly, knowing Zayn would do jack shit until he heard the magic word.

Louis could hear muffled voices just around the corner of the room, and steeled himself for the impending conversation. It's not like he enjoyed ruining people's lives, but sometimes it just had to happen.

In walked two figures. One was Zayn's skinny, lithe frame. He strolled carelessly, showing obvious boredom with the situation. His dark hair was spiked up in the dangerous way that perceived him to be edgy and dark, showing off his deep chocolate eyes and elegant cheekbones. Louis had always thought that maybe, in some other alternate universe when Zayn wasn't a prick, they might have dated.

On the other side of Zayn's brooding strut, was an oddity. The peasant was tall and lanky, with wild brown curls going every which way across his head. He shuffled in wearing ridiculous oversized boots, catching his foot on the rug and stumbling where Louis had earlier. Louis knew that rug was evil. Louis took in the strangers clothes and inwardly smirked. The peasant was wearing an oversized poncho (a poncho??? Didn't those go out of style when Louis' grandpa was a kid?), hanging off of his tanned collarbones and stretching down to cover half of his skinny thighs.

This guy will be so easy to discourage, Louis thought to himself. He looks weak.

Zayn led the fumbling peasant over to the foot of Louis' throne, laughing to himself when the clumsy lad stumbled again in those tatty boots, barely saving himself a hard fall and deep rug burns. Louis awaited a greeting with an arched eyebrow and a new sense of purpose. Eyes on the summer home, Louis.

"Um, hi. I mean uh- Your Highness, I uh, got your letter," he said with his head bowed to the floor. He looked up and Louis made eye contact with him. Deep green met blue, and Louis felt his resolve weaken slightly.

"I'm Harry. Harry Styles. How may I be of service?" Harry seemed to have gained confidence and gave a lofty grin to Louis, showing off deep dimples and beautiful shiny teeth. Louis looked at him for a moment before considering his words.

"Well, Harry. It looks like I am in deep right now. And I don't think there's any one under my rule who can help me quite like you can." Louis paused to gauge Harry's reaction. Confusion spread across Harry's face, wrinkling the brow over his gorgeous eyes. Stupid eyes, stupid ugly poor seaweed eyes. Get ahold of yourself, you're a king.

Harry opened his mouth and let out a slow, thought-out reply. "I'd love to help you out. But I'm a llama herder? I mean, if you're interested in some new coats, I can really help you out. I like to have an all natural process to better the llamas, but I can-"

"No thanks. I don't really care for llamas," Louis cut off Harry. Harry's brow furrowed deeper and he just nodded and waited for a request from his king. Louis couldn't help but notice the way the light hit Harry's concentrated face. Maybe it would be a bit harder than evict him than planned. But no matter, he would break the news, have the guards escort a disgruntled Harry out the palace gates, and start renovations. His master plan couldn't be altered by some mesmerizing eyes. Louis was stronger than that. At least he thought.

"Actually, I have a question for you. You live in the village about 45 minutes north, right? In that lovely little abode on the hill?" Louis paused to observe Harry's befuddled nods of agreement. He continued on, "I am looking to build a summer home. And your little set-up looks like the ideal place for it. It's gonna be great. Two hot tubs in every room."

Harry's face contorted into deeper confusion, "and you want to build a home next to ours? I mean my family would be honored to have a royal next door, but I don't know how big you'd be able to get it without having to tear down the barn. Cuz, you know, that's where my llamas stay." He added with a goofy grin. He really liked those llamas.

Louis sighed. Poor, innocent Harry. Sweet, lovely Harry. He didn't want to get the lad'd hopes up. He should've known he wasn't going to get let off too easy.

"No. That's not what I have planned. Basically, you have a month to completely move out of your home and clear the top of the hill before I demolish it and build mine." Louis figured being blunt was the best choice. He didn't like the way he saw Harry's eyes visibly widen before his face screwed up into worry.

"What? We have to leave?" He seemed to have trouble grasping the idea, further annoying Louis who didn't want to feel sympathy. "But that's where we live. Like all my llamas. They love the pasture behind the hill. And all my cousins live at the foot on the hill in the village. Why are you doing this?"

Louis cursed his luck and tried to push the niggling feelings of guilt off of his conscience so he could finish this terrible interaction and move on with his day. And maybe fit in another nap before dinner.

"Look. I get it. You're sentimental. But I'm king and I want your hill. Pack up and get out before our deadline, or all your belongings will be bye-bye." Louis deadpanned to a distraught Harry.

"But I don't think you get it. Where are we supposed to go? That house has been in our family for generations. We can't afford anywhere else? I'll have to build a shack myself!" Harry sputtered with wild eyes. His features screamed disbelief and mild panic. Louis didn't want to see this anymore.

"I'm sure there's plenty of less picturesque hills for you to raise your llamas. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Zayn will show you out."

Harry face clouded with desperation. "Please. Don't make us leave. I will personally find you another hill. A better one. And I'll build you the house myself. Please, Louis."

Who did this peasant think he was? He can't call Louis by his name. Only Zayn and Liam. The people who actually know him. Louis definitely doesn't like the way his name rolls off of Harry's tongue. Not at all. Harry needs to leave.

"Zayn, help this peasant find his way out of my palace and out of my life," he replied coldy, choosing to ignore Harry's pleas.

"Please! You can't be that cruel!" Harry begged of Louis. He was grasping to any chance he could get to maintain his home. Louis pushed back the feelings of guilt once again, and curtly replied, "you have one month. Be gone by then."

Harry's shoulders sagged and he turned slowly, shuffling over to Zayn's apologetic stance. Zayn led him around the corner to the entrance hall, but not before Harry could look back and give Louis one last hurt look.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here is round 2...let me know what you think
> 
> song for this chapter is consolation prizes by phoenix :)

Louis stretched his neck lazily and looked around the now empty receiving room. The large room dwarfed Louis on his decadent throne, and he had never felt so cold. Why was he pushing someone out of their home? He knew that was unfair and abusing his rights as a ruler. But the nation was at his fingertips, and the only people who attempted to sway his mind were half-hearted advisers and nobles who didn't want to raise taxes.

Louis liked to push his limits. He supposed it came from a childhood of spending hours in a quiet study, pouring over foreign languages and ancient histories of the land. He had never really experienced much or had free reign over his actions, so when his father suddenly died the previous summer and left the throne to his bewildered son, Louis ruled to his own interests. Louis hadn't at all been ready to rule, so instead of facing the challenge of leading a nation head on, he chose to hide behind an apathetic smirk and lavish expenses. He liked that all of the sudden his old caretakers could no longer order him throughout his day, and that it was now very much the other way around. So ridiculous idea after ridiculous idea clouded Louis' entitled mind, greatly testing the power of his words.

Eventually, Louis figured, he was going to have to buckle down and lead his country in a way that gave his subjects a worthy reason to worship him. But at 21, he just didn't feel ready. He was happy to push the inevitable responsibilities of lawmaking and diplomacy off with frivolous building projects and palace renovations. He was the king, anyways, so his word was law.

This time, though, he felt the weight of his impulsive choices much greater than usual. Something about Harry's deep green eyes shining in hurt struck a chord inside of Louis. He didn't want Harry to look like that. Especially because of him. He didn't even know this peasant, but there he was haunting the back of Louis' mind.

Frustration built at the effect Harry's disheartened face had on him. He was being ridiculous, questioning his own authority. Louis shouldn't care. Harry was a peasant, who worked to serve Louis. He was just a small issue to be dealt with, not sympathized for. Determination to prove his point and rid himself of his mind's attempts at a conscience fueled Louis to continue on with his day.

Dragging his hands over his face and through his hair, Louis slowly stood up and stretched his body. The best thing to distract him from his dizzying thoughts would be a gourmet meal. His unsettled stomach could use some freshly baked cakes.

\---

Later, Louis sat at his lengthy dining table, waiting for Liam to finally bring out his meal.

"Liam, c'mon mate, I'm dying here," Louis called out to this chef. Liam had worked in the castle as long as he had lived, first as a companion to the young prince, then to kitchen staff, and after years of dedication, master chef. His skills in the kitchen never failed to please Louis' appetite, although his perfectionist mentality often left Louis with an impatient stomach.

"Ok Lou, the spinach puffs are ready," Liam said, puttering out of the kitchen. His large chef's hat flopped over his kind brown eyes and nearly made him dump the precious puffs into Zayn's lap.

"Oops," he giggled, righting himself and setting down the meal with a flourish. He bowed swiftly, and returned to he kitchens to whip up whatever was to be had for desert.

Louis picked up a pastry and eyed it carefully, before stuffing the entire thing in his mouth. And he wasn't disappointed. The warm puff melted into his mouth, erasing all thoughts of that dreadful peasant from earlier out of his mind. This is exactly why he needed.

"So, that Harry dude was pretty hot, don't you think?" Zayn asked from across the table.

Louis snapped out of his fleeting bliss and sent Zayn a glare. Zayn knew Louis better than anyone else, and knew when Louis' interest in someone was present, no matter how much Louis tried to hide it.

"For a nutjob, poncho-wearing peasant, I guess," Louis shrugged nonchalantly. This was not a topic he was willing to raise, especially since he had almost felt self-doubt earlier. He needed Zayn's support in this. Hopefully if he brushed the topic off, Zayn would take the hint and let it go.

"He looked pretty gutted about his house being torn out."

No such luck. Louis sighed from deep within him and made eye contact with his evil best friend, who sat with a cocked eyebrow and a glass of wine in his hand. "Well, if I was that worried about his emotional state, I would have invited him to dinner, right? He'll get over it. It's a damn cottage. You're both acting like I'm massacring his village."

Zayn swirled the wine in his glass, seemingly interested in the way the dark liquid sloshed up the sides. He finally looked up at Louis, with an almost troubled look on his face, and said, "Why is it that important to have that specific spot? I know I'm not usually that sympathetic and shit, but something about uprooting a family doesn't sit right with me. He seemed so harmless, like a llama farmer? I don't know, I just..."

He trailed off and pinched his eyebrows together, clearly still conflicted. Louis frowned. Zayn was supposed to be on his side, not some random that had just been kicked out of the palace. Louis was perfectly fine with testing his morals, as long as Zayn was alongside him. And when most would see this as a sign to back down, Louis took it as a challenge.

Zayn would forget all about the curly peasant when he was chilling in one of Louis' luxurious hot tubs with an endless supply of alcohol. Louis just had to be strong for himself, because apparently even Zayn, resident palace bad boy, was affected by Harry's green doe-eyes.

"Zayn. Think about what you're saying. You have been complaining about the stuffiness of this palace for the past five months. So now that I do something about it, you complain? I just don't know what you want from me here." Louis chose to take the melodramatic route to remind Zayn of their initial dream of a getaway. Zayn responded predictably, with an eye roll and another sip of wine. "You know I hate this place. But that doesn't mean I'm all for evicting some villager who hasn't done anything to me. Honestly, you could have anywhere in the kingdom. And that's the place you pick?" He gave Louis a questioning look, biting into another of Liam's puffs.

Louis in fact, really really did want that place. On his most recent tour of the nation, he had passed the small village of Holmes Chapel and was taken by the picturesque views.

He remembered the gorgeous sunset that had been reflecting off the uneven stone-paved streets, actually holding his attention. He had been exhausted and grumpy from a long day of travel and greeting peasants. A stuffy carriage and uncomfortable clothes had been an unwelcome addition to his already dissatisfying day. But when he had grown frustrated with his fruitless attempts at a nap, he had looked out the windows and been instantly enraptured by the breathtaking view. Maybe it was the timing, considering he never really had appreciated a sunset, but Louis was so enamored with the sight of the hazy sky, he had immediately set his sights on returning. And with Zayn (who had been snoring opposite him) bugging him about getting a new vacation home, Louis had the perfect opportunity. Setting his sights on a quaint hilltop, he had ordered his architect to contact the homeowner and begin designing a plush new home.

"Well while you were snoring instead of paying attention to me, your king, you missed it. It was glorious. And it's what I want. End of story." He retorted, with an impatient tone. Louis didn't like to explain himself, especially when technically, his word was law. Draining his golden wine chalice, Louis decided he was done with this conversation. He didn't need to explain his motives, and Zayn would soon be apologizing for ever doubting him. 

"Liam, pour me some more of this wine, would you?" Louis called out, hoping Liam would hear him from the kitchens. Understanding not to interrogate further, Zayn went back to his meal with his usual uncaring look. Moments later, the old architect from earlier, whose name Louis still doesn't remember, shuffled into the room on wavering legs. He gave a quick bow at the sight of his king, and explained, "My apologies, your highness, the master chef is currently busy preparing your desert. He didn't to leave his creation unattended."

Louis shrugged, "Whatever, I'm just thirsty."

The old man made his way Louis' side, stopping on his way to top off Zayn's glass as well. Louis watched with mild amusement at the man's cautious movements and his slow wine-pouring. Louis inclined his head to dismiss the delicate architect, and watched Zayn. His best friend was complicated, and Louis wasn't looking for an argument. Zayn knew how to hold grudges. He just really hoped that Zayn was as passionate about hot tubs as he had acted last week.

"Zayn, don't you think you're over thinking this a bit? We'll be relaxing in hot tubs heated by my hardest working servants, and the peasants will situate themselves elsewhere. I'm sure of it."

Louis looked up to Zayn to gauge his reaction, but instead saw him face-down on his plate, spinach puff smeared into his once perfectly coiffed hair. Funny. He had assumed Zayn was a little too vain to put his hair at risk, but apparently Zayn was trying to prove a point. And he called Louis the dramatic one. Louis shrugged again, and downed his wine, frowning at its strange taste.

His plate was all the sudden really close to his face, and then all he could see was darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> song for this chapter is the title song, i suppose


End file.
